


Let my hands do what they want

by thirtypercent



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Fluff, Porny fluff, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:36:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirtypercent/pseuds/thirtypercent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John hadn't expected this. A man who would grope him inside New Scotland Yard just to watch him squirm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let my hands do what they want

**Author's Note:**

> A shameless bit of porny fluff writen for the 30-minute 221B challenge in #antidiogenes. The prompt: “John can’t decide if he wants to punch Sherlock right away.”
> 
> The title comes from Dev’s [In the Dark](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0g_KPH1kzcY), which has about as much depth as this story. But it's sexy!

John can't decide if he wants to punch Sherlock right away, or a wait a bit. Possibly until his attention is focused on some corpse or another.

Or maybe a nice strangling. Draw it out a bit more, watch the eyes bulge.

Or perhaps a fucking. Yes, definitely a fucking. Over the table in the next room, preferably. If only there weren’t a damn suspect sitting there with Lestrade and half the NSY in earshot. 

John grits his teeth and thinks of cloudy eyeballs, maggot-covered corpses, that awful aspic his grandmum used to make.

Anything to avoid leaning into the warm line of Sherlock’s body pressed against his back, coat unfurling around them, or the long fingers Sherlock is drawing over the growing bulge in his trousers.

“Sherlock,” he hisses. 

Sherlock chuckles, low in his ear. “Hush, John.”

Who knew the man would have such a sense of humor? 

John stifles a groan and braces a hand on the mirror. “Don’t you want to _observe_?”

“Boring. He’ll be confessing in approximately eight minutes.”

“Then in eight minutes, we’ll go home and I’ll fuck you over the kitchen table. Yeah?”

The brush of Sherlock’s lips over the nape of his neck is electrifying as Sherlock shakes his head no.

John turns around. “Mmm. Then how about now?”

Sherlock’s grin is feral. “Better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I know it’s light on redeeming factors, but I needed an antidote to all the angst in [this thing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/900830). Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
